


I Bemen 4 on

by Redgillan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Office, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 09:25:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14746188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Redgillan/pseuds/Redgillan
Summary: For @bithors ‘s writing challenge: “I know I have terrible writing but can u get off my dick about it for three seconds and at least try to decipher that this says ‘I love you”





	I Bemen 4 on

**Author's Note:**

> 1,650 words  
> My first Sam fic, so please be nice :) This is pure fluff with a tiny lil bit of angst.

 

Working for Barnes and Rogers was the best job you had landed in your life. They treated their employees like family members and you actually looked forward to go back to work, which was… crazy.

You had been hired as their social media manager, an obscure title that always causes raised eyebrows, but your job was simply to use social media to attract new clients. Your parents assumed you just used Facebook and Instagram all day, though it was a bit more complex than that.

Keeping potential buyers interested and attracting new customers meant that you had to be creative 24/7 and that kind of pressure was weighing you down.

Your bosses told you to relax, you couldn’t be perfect all the time, but their pep talk fell on deaf ears. You were too much of a perfectionist to stop trying. Luckily for you, your cubicle mate was there to brighten up your days.

Everyone loved Sam Wilson, his dynamic and charming personality brought people to his side. He had a quick wit and a great sense of humour as well as a natural charm… no wonder everyone loved him. He had given you a little stress relief toy, a bird whose eyes and tongue poked out of its mouth when you squeezed it. You kept it on your desk next to your favourite mug.

“Hey, little bird,” Sam greeted you, shrugging off the leather jacket he was wearing, his sunglasses still perched on his nose. “Did you have a good weekend?”

You turned in the swivel chair so you could face him. He truly was a sight for sore eyes. “T’was okay, nothing crazy.”

He took the cup of coffee you had left on his desk and smiled into the mug as he took a deep breath and savoured the bitter aroma. It was something you did every morning without thinking too much about it. He took a quick sip and raised his mug in acknowledgement.

“Um, my favorite,” he hummed, licking his lips. “Thanks, little bird. You’re perfect!”

You tried not to preen, but being called perfect by your work crush was making your heart flutter like a hummingbird’s wings. Squealing internally, you tried to look unaffected.

Sam put the mug back on his desk when Rogers entered the bullpen and told him the meeting was about to start. You tilted your head as you watched his retreating figure, appreciating the way his jeans hugged his thighs.

The artificial sound of a camera shutter pulled you out of your little fantasy. You whirled your head toward the intern who had an apologetic cringe on his face.

“Sorry,” he said while typing on his phone, “I forgot I had the sound on.”

“Peter,” you sighed his name and at the same moment, your phone beeped, alerting you to a new notification. Peter flashed his signature boyish grin. “I swear to God if you’ve posted this on Instagram-”

You let your words hang in the air while you reached for your phone. It was an idle threat, and you both knew it.  

Peter was finishing his degree in Communication and had found this internship thanks to his godfather Tony Stark who was one of your biggest investors. You liked having Peter around, he helped you think outside the box and his ideas were often quite fun.

He took over the company’s Instagram account where he posted pictures of the employees doing random things. The number of likes, comments and followers practically doubled after a week and the team could barely keep up with the company’s sudden popularity.

People always wanted to see more pictures of the cute intern, the hot bosses, the badass head of security, the silver-haired hottie, etc… but the star of the show was you and the man with a falcon tattoo.

The followers had noticed the way you looked at Sam everytime Peter posted a picture of the two of you together. Soon they were “shipping it” as the cool kids say. That’s how you got the nickname ‘ _little bird’_ , which Sam started using as well.

“Great,” you sighed when you opened your Instagram and saw the picture Peter had just posted, “I look like a moron.”

Peter jumped on your desk and sat cross-legged, which was not a rare occurrence. He could literally climb on anything. That kid was so goddamn agile.

“I think you look great,” he replied distractedly while he read the comments. “Oh, someone says, ‘ _I bet she’s daydreaming about her big birb’_. Dude, you’re so right.”

> _curp_cavahalo: how do I apply for a job? I wanna work with you_
> 
> _leleduh: Spidey! Bring these two idiots together plz u’re our only hope!_
> 
> _mellyrg: I CANT WITH ALL THESE UNSPOKEN FEELINGS JUST KISS ALREADY_

You read some of the comments and let out a long whine. This was so embarrassing, you wanted to hide in the copy room for the rest of your life.

“Ugh, they need to stop. Sam doesn’t have feelings for m- Ow!” you yelped as Peter flicked your forehead. “What was that for?”

“Because you’re so blind,  _little bird_ ,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “He loves you.”

You scoffed, “yeah, sure.” Peter flicked your forehead again. “O-w! Stop!”

“No,” he told you. “I think I’m gonna take leleduh’s advice.

“What? You have a plan or something?” you snickered.

You raised your gaze to his. He was grinning, a devilish light sparkling in his eyes. “You ever see that kinda old movie Love Actually?”

*

So there you were, standing behind the glass doors of the conference room with a bunch of cue cards while Sam was finishing his presentation. You were so nervous you felt sick. Why had you agreed to do this?

Barnes, Rogers and their associates were engaged in an animated conversation while Sam stood a bit further away, nodding at what Rogers was saying. When he saw you, he gave you a bright smile and a little wave.

It was now or never.

*

The men and women in the room were discussing the new marketing plan, but Sam wasn’t listening. He watched you straighten up, a look of determination in your eyes. It was one of the things he loved about you, you always tried your best and never gave up.

But then you raised your first cue card high enough for him to see and his brows furrowed.

> _We’ve bem friends for a long lime_

“Uh?” he said quietly.

With trembling fingers, you let the first cue card fall to the ground, revealing another one. He recoiled a bit, unable to read your handwriting.

> _bum there’s souuneliny I never had the guls to tell yon._

The people in the room were oblivious to what was happening. Sam tried to meet your eyes, but you shyly looked away as you revealed a third cue card.

> _It might seem comy but here me goo_

Your eyes met for a brief second and he could tell you were on the verge of panicking. He just stared back at you, looking lost and confused. If only he could understand what the fuck you were trying to say with your damn cue cards.

> _I bemen 4 on_

You held the last card and Sam read it three times before he looked back at you and shrugged. He honestly had no idea what that meant. Your eyes went wide and you clamped your hands over your mouth to suppress a sob. This wasn’t the reaction you’d been expecting.

“Fuck!” Sam shouted as he ran out of the conference room, ignoring his colleagues’ curious stares.

You dropped to your knees and quickly gathered your cue cards, hoping to make a quick exit, but Sam’s shoes came into view as he stood in front of you. You got to your feet and held the cards protectively against your chest.

“I understand if you don’t feel the same,” you mumbled, “but you didn’t have to make fun of me.”

“What? What is going on?” he asked genuinely confused.

“You read my cards and you shrugged, Sam,” you said, tears welling up in your eyes.

“Little bird, you have the handwriting of a three-year-old,” he said with a gentle smile, hoping that it would bring the glow back to your face. “I don’t know what ‘ _I bemen 4 on’_  means.”

Upon seeing your confused stare, Sam reached for the cue card pressed against your chest. With his index finger, he traced the words you had written.

“See? I bemen, then the number four and on.”

“That’s not a ‘ _4’_ ,” you gasped, slapping his hand away, “that’s a  _‘y’_.”

“Well, it still doesn’t make any sense,” he said.

“Are you sure you know how to read?” you deadpanned, feeling annoyed and a little angry. “It’s perfectly readable. Maybe you should go back to kindergarten.”

An incredulous laugh escaped him. “Me? You’re the one who can’t form letters. Have you ever heard of the alphabet? Or maybe you’re having a stroke.”

He reached out a hand to touch your forehead, but you took a step back. You knew he was merely teasing you, but you were frustrated that he couldn’t understand what you had written on your cards.

“I’ve written ‘I love you’, dumbass!”

Sam froze, his hand hanging in mid-air, halfway to your head. There was a long silence as you watched him process your words.

“You love me?” he finally said, his brown eyes wide.

You shrugged.

Without a word, Sam cupped the side of your face and took a step forward before he lowered his mouth to yours. You stiffened a bit before you melted against his strong chest. He caught your bottom lip between his teeth, tugging gently before sweeping his tongue over yours. Sweet. Warm. Perfect.

And then… the sound of someone taking a picture reached your ears, making you grumble against Sam’s lips. He only smiled and deepened the kiss.


End file.
